


happiness is a race against time (so we might as well stop the clock)

by orphan_account



Category: Marvel
Genre: Cute, Fluff, Happy, M/M, happiness, other characters i just cba to tag them, rot your teeth sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-01
Updated: 2019-03-01
Packaged: 2019-11-07 18:38:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17965925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: peter thinks chasing happiness is a whole lot of work, but when he finally feels it, he thinks nothing can shatter the peace in his heart





	happiness is a race against time (so we might as well stop the clock)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gaygarbagebaby](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaygarbagebaby/gifts).
  * Inspired by [A caged bird, too scared to sing](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15967859) by [gaygarbagebaby](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaygarbagebaby/pseuds/gaygarbagebaby). 



> disclaimer: this is a fic using my friend [aspens](https://gaygarbagebaby.tumblr.com) oc, avery, whom i love very dearly. 
> 
> also slight cw: flash is a bit of an asshole (like he always is), and hes a little bit homophobic. its only a little tiny paragraph but just make sure that u stay safe!

Thursday dawns with a great sense of trepidation and a lot of rain. Too much rain.

Peter rolls over with a sigh, balancing on the very edge of his bed. His eyes do their level best to follow the trails of rain down the window, despite the fact that he can barely see three feet in front of him.

There’s a faint tap from his bedroom door and then May pokes her head in. She’s wearing her glasses, and her hair is tied up in some fancy looking updo. “Morning, sleepy,” she says, and her voice is as soft as it ever is. “Ready for today?”

Peter just groans. “Nope.”

May laughs at him. “I’ll leave some food out in case things go world-endingly wrong, huh?”

“Thanks,” Peter says, drawing the word out long enough that May leaves halfway through. He shoves his glasses on his face and watches the rain for a few more minutes before forcing himself to roll out of bed.

His room is kind of grey and colourless because of the weather, and some of that must translate into his mood, because he pulls on a pair of black jeans and a grey graphic shirt (it was probably one of MJ’s, but he can’t exactly bring himself to care). Peter shuffles out of his room and towards the kitchen, where May is pulling on her sneakers.

“I’ll see you later, Peter,” she says, sounding all kinds of distracted. “Don’t stay up too late, okay? And don’t forget to do your homework.”

“Have a good day,” Peter says, taking a spoon and dipping it into the jar of jelly on the counter.

“Don’t eat jelly on its own,” May says disapprovingly. Peter shoves the spoon in his mouth anyway and waves at her on her way out of the door.

* * *

 

MJ looks tired when he gets to school. She doesn’t even comment on the fact that Peter’s wearing two different colours of Converse; something he didn’t notice till he had left the apartment. She just glares at him and turns back to her book (which looks like its been thoroughly rained on). 

Ned looks only slightly happier, and Peter thinks it may be down to the bright yellow sweatshirt he’s wearing. He still doesn’t really say much, just asks Peter about the homework and whether he’s going to labs after school, which Peter answers in turn. Then they sit in somewhat sombre silence until Avery turns up and jumps onto Peter’s back, effectively pushing them both to the ground until Peter can taste damp gravel.

“Why do I even love you,” Peter says, muffled almost entirely by dirt.

“My dashing good looks,” Avery says breezily, “and my body, and my intelligence, and my money, and-”

“You don’t have to keep listing things,” Peter tells him. “Now please get up because gravel isn’t that nutritious.”

“I’m sure it’s full of vitamins and stuff,” Avery says, but he stands up and offers Peter a hand anyway. “You okay?”

“I was better before you got here.”

“And they say romance is dead. How ready are you for tonight?”

“You mean how ready am I to meet your terrifyingly rich, famous, and scary parents?” Peter deadpans. “It’s like a walk in the park, and I’m not worried at all.”

Avery sticks his tongue out at him. “Alright, alright. It’ll go fine.”

“If I escape with my life, I will genuinely be surprised,” Peter says, “but sure, it’ll go fine.”

“They’re not that bad,” Avery says. “‘Sides, I’ll punch them if you get hurt.”

“Gee, what would I do without you protecting my honour,” Peter says.

“If you want my honest opinion,” MJ cuts in, “you’d probably die.”

* * *

 

The day passes slow enough that Peter feels each minute drag, until he’s sitting at their lunch table in the cafeteria and Avery drops into his lap without warning. 

“Afternoon, my fair maiden,” he declares, stabbing Peter’s juice box and sipping from it. “How was physics?”

“Since when did you memorise my schedule?” Peter asks.

“Since I was bored last night,” Avery says. “How was physics?” he repeats. 

Peter sniffs. “Boring. And I got homework.”

“You’ll finish it in ten minutes,” Avery tells him. “Anyway, MJ said to tell you that she and Ned went to the library, so it’s just us if you catch my drift,” he winks over-exaggeratedly. 

Peter screws his face up. “Not in the cafeteria, if that’s what you’re implying.”

Avery groans. “Spoilsport. At least give me a kiss. I need it like I need air to breath.”

“You’re really cocky for someone asking for a kiss,” Peter says, but he leans forward to kiss Avery anyway, and he even manages to ignore the Cola can that Flash chucks at them.

Avery can’t, though, because he’s apparently got a lot of battles and he has to fight all of them, so he’s up off of Peter before he can blink, and breaking Flash’s noise the next second. Peter just sighs and yells after him: “Avery!”

“Go back to your boyfriend, fairy,” Flash says, sounding kind of stuffed up by the blood pouring off of his face.

“Fuck you,” Avery snarls. Peter closes his eyes as he swings at Flash again and he waits for the dull thud of flesh on face before pushing forward to wrap an arm around Avery’s waist and pull him back.

“Come on,” he says, “give it up. Avery, let’s go.”

There are many things that Peter loves about his boyfriend, and most of the time, his perseverance and determination is something Peter loves most. Other times, he finds himself cursing the shit out of Avery’s refusal to let things go. Times like these.

Flash laughs through the blood waterfall (which is a gruesome sight if Peter ever saw one), and Avery finally relents, letting Peter pull him away and to the library.

* * *

 

“What horror film were you guys just shooting?” MJ asks when Peter sinks into the chair next to her.

Avery stands next to him and glares, looking not unlike a petulant child. “Flash.”

MJ nods as if that explains the answer to the entire world and turns back to her book, which is looking less rained on than it did this morning.

“What’d he do?” Ned asks.

“What hasn’t he done?” Avery gripes, clenching and unclenching his fists.

“He threw a can at us,” Peter says, tugging on Avery’s hand. “So Avery punched him.”

MJ holds her hand up for a high five.

“Damn,” Ned says. “He probably deserves whatever Avery did, then.”

Peter buries his head in his hands.

* * *

 

He meets Avery after school, feeling kind of like a drowned rat standing in the rain. Avery pushes Peter’s hair off of his forehead with a grin, running his fingers through it to make it stick up.

Peter glares at him and flattens it. “Glad you’re in a better mood.”

“Why wouldn’t I be? I saw Flash in detention on my way past,” Avery says in obvious delight. “Jarvis said he’ll meet us round the street, if you’re ready to go.”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Peter declares like he’s walking to his death.

“Jeez, lighten up,” Avery says. “It’s just Jarvis.”

“And then we’ll get to your house and it’ll be Jarvis, and your brother, and Jarvis’s wife, and your father, and your mother,” Peter says. “All of whom could end up being my executioner.”

“Stop being so melodramatic. It’ll be fine,” Avery says. “Who are you most afraid of?”

“Honestly? Your brother.”

Avery bursts into peals of laughter. “Don’t tell him that, his ego is big enough as it is. Seriously, you’re afraid of Tony?”

“Yes!” Peter says defensively. “He could totally ruin my life.”

“Have you seen him? He’s like a little puppy. He’d never ruin your life,” Avery says. “Come on.” He takes Peter’s hand, and manages to drag him through no less than six puddles.

Peter decides that Avery’s smile is worth a pair of mismatched soggy Converse any day, though, but it’s a really hard decision to make. Avery seems unaware of his internal woes, so Peter tries to focus less on the puddle water seeping into his socks and more on Avery’s grin.

* * *

 

Jarvis turns out to be probably the nicest person Peter has ever met in the history of ever, and apparently the only person capable of telling Avery to shut up and have Avery  _ actually _ shut up, which is slightly a surprise and very impressive.

He also makes Peter feel a bit like he’s in a Batman movie, which is never an unwelcome feeling. He half expects Avery to pull out a batsuit and dive out of the car window like some kind of superhero.

“You can stop looking like you’re about to pass out now,” Avery whispers to him.

“I don’t look like I’m about to pass out!”

Avery fixes him with an unimpressed stare and presses his hand to Peter’s forehead. “You’re like, totally burning up. Chill out.”

“Easier said than done,” Peter grumbles.

“Why are you so nervous anyway?” Avery asks. “You know that if they didn’t like you and told me to dump you, I’d date you anyway because I lurrrrve you.”

Peter grimaces at the intonation Avery puts on ‘love’ but he leans against him anyway. “I know. I just… don’t want your family to hate me. It’ll make getting married really freaking awkward.”

Avery laughs. “If it helps put your stupid mind at ease, I’m fairly sure that my mom and Tony will love you, and Jarvis likes you already, and Ana loves anyone I love. The only person you might have a problem with is my dad, but when have I ever given a single fuck about what my dad thinks?”

“Not that kind of language, please, sir,” Jarvis says, eyeing them in the mirror.

“Who else am I going to ask for your hand in marriage then?” Peter stresses.

“We don’t have to get married right  _ now _ , Peter,” Avery says. “Maybe my dad will have kicked the bucket by then. Fingers crossed.”

“Avery Stark,” Jarvis says disapprovingly. Then he winks at Peter. “And you could always ask me for his hand in marriage, Master Parker.”

Avery splutters. Peter adds ‘make Avery speechless’ to his mental list of things Jarvis seems to do exceptionally well.

* * *

 

Avery is never what Peter seems to expect, and that seems to translate across to every aspect of his life, because the house isn’t what Peter was expecting it to be.

Well, he was expecting it to be grand and big and beautiful, and it is, but he wasn’t expecting it to look so… run down. There’s a row of flowerbeds in front of the drive that look perfectly tended to, a stark contrast from the house.

Avery is staring at him, obviously charting his reaction. “Uh…”

Peter lets out a laugh. “Stop staring at me.”

“You say as if I can help it,” Avery teases. “You’re just way too freaking beautiful.”

Peter willfully ignores the red bleeding into his cheeks. “Don’t say that.”

Avery laughs, opening the car door and pulling Peter out of it. “And why ever not, my darling dearest?”

“Oh, don’t.”

He pulls Peter onto the front step, shoving a key into the lock and pushing the door hard. It opens to a wide entrance hall, and its probably about the size of Peter’s entire apartment. 

There’s several doors leading off from the main hall, as well as a sweeping staircase in the middle, and Avery leads him up to the stairs. He steps onto the bottom one and turns back to loop his arms around Peter’s neck and press their foreheads together.

Peter grins. “Finally you can hug me without having to sacrifice your spine.”

Avery hums consideringly. “If only there was a way for me to carry a stepladder around at all times.”

“Platform heels?” Peter suggests, relishing in the feeling of Avery’s warm breath blowing over his cheeks.

Avery wrinkles his nose. “I’m either sacrificing my ankles or my spine and I’m not sure which I’d prefer. Maybe you should just carry me everywhere.”

“Carry you everywhere?” Peter giggles. “I’m not  _ that _ strong.”

Avery’s hands drop to prod at Peter’s biceps. “Hmm, I don’t know. You seem pretty strong to me.”

Peter smiles, tilting his head enough to press his lips to Avery’s. 

His hands migrate up to cup Peter’s face, and Peter finds himself almost melting into him until someone behind them coughs and Avery springs away with a sheepish grin.

“Don’t stop on my account,” the someone says and Peter swings around with pink-ish cheeks to see Tony grinning.

“I don’t do that for free, you know,” Avery says. 

“Ew,” Tony tells him. “You’re not a prostitute. More importantly, is this  _ him _ ?”

“No,” Avery says. “This is just the other guy I invited over today.”

Tony rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Come here, then. Let me judge him.”

“You’ve not judging him,” Avery frowns.

“Yes, I am. Gotta make sure he’s right for my baby brother somehow, don’t I?” Tony says. “Steve’s coming to pick me up in five minutes, so I have to make sure I establish myself as the big scary older brother first.”

“You declaring your plan makes you decidedly less scary,” Avery says.

“He looks terrified,” Tony says, pointing at Peter, and Avery turns to stare at him.

Tony’s probably right, because Peter definitely feels terrified, and Avery stifles a giggle. “I’m not scared,” Peter mutters, but his voice cracks somewhere in the middle of scared and the rest of the word trails off.

Avery laughs delightedly. “You’re  _ adorable _ ,” he declares, leaning over to flop his head on Peter’s shoulder.

Tony grimaces. “Ew. Get out of here if you’re going to flirt.”

“I thought you said you were leaving,” Avery says.

“Yeah, in five minutes, in case you’re going deaf. All that Radiohead, it’s blowing out your eardrums,” Tony says.

“Just because you can’t appreciate good music,” Avery says haughtily, stepping onto the next few stairs and consequently pulling Peter with him.

“There’re condoms in the bathroom!” Tony yells before wrenching the front door open again.

Avery just has time to yell, “Fuck off!” before it clicks shut, and he turns to Peter with an absolutely mortified expression. “So that was Tony. And he probably loves you. And I’m really super sorry that he’s like  _ that _ .”

Peter giggles. “It’s fine. He’s no worse than what my aunt would be like.”

“I don’t know if that’s reassuring or not,” Avery says, frowning. “Anyway, do you want a… tour, or something? I was just going to go to my room but you’ve, like, never been here before. Do you want a drink, or a snack, or something?”

“You can show me around,” Peter says, trying not to laugh at how out of his depth Avery looks. “When was the last time you had someone over?”

“Like, never,” Avery says, starting back down the stairs. “I don’t really know what to do in this entire situation.”

“So you’ve never brought people home, or anything?” Peter asks, following him.

“No,” Avery says. “Come on, let’s go to the kitchen and we can grab a drink, or whatever.”

He leads Peter into the first door on the left, pushing it open to reveal some state of the art kitchen (one that May would probably die for). The appliances are all shiny steel and look like they’ve never actually been used. Avery opens the fridge and sticks his head in.

“What do you want?” he asks, shuffling things around.

Peter hums, dragging a finger along the smooth white marble countertops. “Whatever you have.”

He feels kind of overwhelmed, because this entire kitchen probably costs more than his and May’s whole apartment. It’s not like he didn’t know that Avery was, like, rich, but it hadn’t ever exactly clicked. Until now, at least. 

Avery looks around from behind the fridge door. “Seriously. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, of course,” Peter says. “Just… a bit overwhelmed?”

Avery’s eyes widen. “Shit. Sorry, I- I know it can be a lot sometimes. Um, do you just want to hang out here for a bit, then? Or we could go out to the gardens, maybe find my mom? I’m totally flying blind here.”

Peter giggles. “You and me both, pal.”

“You can’t call me, your actual boyfriend, pal,” Avery says, disgust shading his tone. “That’s indescribable levels of bad relationship etiquette.”

“Oh, my bad,” Peter deadpans. “Pal.”

Avery screws his face up, shutting the refrigerator. “Stop it. There are loads of better pet names than that.”

“What would you like me to call you, then?” Peter asks. “Is ‘companion’ better?” He puts on an over exaggerated Southern accent, “or ‘pardner?”’

Avery covers his ears and squints his eyes shut. “Nooo…”

Peter giggles. “Fine. What pet name would you prefer?”

He hums consideringly, hopping up onto the counter top and pulling Peter towards him. “I haven’t really thought about it. What pet name would you like?”

Peter slots himself between Avery’s knees. “I haven’t thought about it either. Pet names aren’t a requirement, are they?”

“Depends how much of a cliche you wanna be,” Avery shrugs, curling his fingers into Peter’s hair. “My motto is ‘the more cliche the better’.”

“Since when has that been your motto?” Peter asks, laughing. “I didn’t even know you had a motto.”

Avery taps the side of Peter’s nose. “A boy has got to have some secrets, doesn’t he?”

Peter just giggles again, leaning forward to duck his head under Avery’s chin.

* * *

 

Avery forces him to spend the rest of the afternoon exploring the gardens rather than the house, regardless of the pouring rain and damp, muddy ground. Peter doesn’t have as many complaints as he thought he would, apart from when Avery slipped in a puddle and pulled Peter down with him.

It meant Peter had to steal some of Tony’s clothes though, because he was only an inch shorter than him, compared to Avery’s four. Which was only slightly awkward because it’s weird borrowing clothes from your boyfriend’s brother rather than your boyfriend. 

Then Howard gets home, and Tony turns up with a ring of purple-y marks on his neck, and the house falls silent. Peter feels a bit like he’s suffocating, and it’s kind of obvious that neither Tony nor Avery particularly like their father at all.

Dinner happens at half seven, and Avery leads him down to the dining room with a sweaty hand. He stops Peter just outside the doorway and turns to him with squinty eyes.

“Okay just… my dad might be a bit weird about all this,” he says. “So no matter what happens, just know that I love you, and Tony likes you, and Jarvis and Ana like you, and that’s the only people who matter in this household.”

“I know,” Peter says, squeezing Avery’s hand. “I love you too.”

Avery makes a face that Peter can’t decipher and nods sort of to himself. “Fuel into the fire,” he says, but he doesn’t make any effort to push open the doors.

Peter waits a minute before prompting him. “Avery?”

“Yeah, I know,” Avery says. “Just a minute. Just… If this goes all tits up, please don’t break up with me.”

Peter frowns. “Who said I was breaking up with you?”

Avery widens his eyes at him. He drawls, “The voices in my head.”

“You should get them checked out,” Peter says. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah,” Avery says, “yeah, I think. Are you?”

Peter’s mouth turns up at the corner. “Yeah.”

* * *

 

They eat in silence, which usually wouldn’t bother Peter, but this silence feels like it’s full of spikes and other horrible pointy things, like even the wrong look would get him gutted. Which is not how he’d like to end this evening, thanks so much, even if it would be an easier fate than sitting through the tediousness of the meal.

The only respite is Avery, who keeps knocking their knees together under the table. Which Tony seems to notice, because every time Howard or Maria aren’t watching, he makes some kind of lewd gesture, which Avery returns in turn.

It serves only to make Peter blush, which makes Avery cackle, which makes Howard glare at them until silence falls again.

All in all, it’s probably one of the most awkward meals Peter’s ever eaten, maybe ever. And it will probably remain the most awkward meal Peter’s ever eaten for the rest of his entire life.

“So, Peter,” Maria says, after Howard has disappeared towards the kitchen with a bottle of whiskey in hand. “You and Avery are going to prom together?”

Peter is struck by the overwhelming urge to call her ‘your Majesty’, or something equally as embarrassing-slash-regal. He settles for: “Um, yes,” but judging by the way Avery kicks his ankle, it comes out less carefree and more emotionally stunted than he would have liked.

Maria nods slowly. “How- how long have you been… together?”

Peter thinks perhaps everyone in Avery’s family is inept at conducting casual human conversations. “A few months, I guess,” Peter replies, because he can’t actually remember the exact date.

Avery says, “Five months next week.”

“Shit, no way?” Peter almost gasps, because it feels equally like a blink of the eye but also forever. 

Avery laughs. “Shit, yes way.”

Tony smiles into his drink. “Has anyone given Peter a shovel talk yet?”

Peter’s eyes widen considerably. Avery speaks up, “No. And no one is about to, please, because he’s scared enough as it is.”

“I’m not scared,” Peter mutters, but its kind of pointless. Avery just pats his knee, and Tony laughs.

“Sure you’re not,” Tony says, before standing up and pushing his chair back. “Well, it was fun to sit in absolute silence with you. I’m going out.”

Maria’s face twitches. “Don’t be home too late, Anthony.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, mother,” Tony says, even though it sounds sarcastic and like he’s forcing the words out of his mouth.

Avery’s mouth twists up into something ugly. “Let’s go back to my room,” he says, once Tony’s gone. He doesn’t wait for any kind of agreement from Maria before standing up and heading straight out the door.

“Thank you- Thanks for the, uh, the food,” Peter says, stumbling over a quick thanks before rushing after Avery.

He almost misses the sort of fond look Maria sends to the both of them, and Peter decides he quite likes her, actually.

* * *

 

“Your mom looks lonely,” Peter remarks as soon as they’re back in Avery’s bedroom. “Is she okay?”

Avery frowns, flopping down onto his bed. “She’s fine, just… tired, I guess. Howard isn’t exactly the best person in the family, if you didn’t notice.”

Peter hums, crawling up next to Avery and letting him curl into his side. “She seems nice, though. Everyone does.”

“Everyone except Howard, you mean,” Avery scoffs. “Yeah. They all like you. Tony might seem like a huge asshole with everything, but he only does shit like that when he cares. It’s really hard to find someone that Jarvis and Ana don’t like, either, so,” Avery shrugs.

“I should go home soon,” he says quietly, because the world feels like it’s resting and Peter doesn’t want to disturb that.

“Probably,” Avery says, softly, reluctantly. “I’ll get Jarvis to drive you home.”

Peter mumbles something he can’t decipher, lifting a hand to twist his fingers in Avery’s hair. They lie there for longer than they should, legs hanging off of the edge of the bed in a way that isn’t comfortable, but Peter feels at peace.

It’s nice.

* * *

 

Jarvis pulls the car to a stop just outside Peter’s apartment block. The car is probably more expensive than Peter’s entire existence, which is kind of what he’s come to expect from Avery and his family.

“It was lovely to meet you, Mister Parker,” Jarvis says, jolting Peter from his thoughts. The streetlamps send yellow gold light over the car and through the dripping rain (which hasn’t let up all day, much to Peter’s annoyance).

“You too,” Peter says, feeling for all the world like he’s in some low budget indie movie. Right now, there’d probably be a mysterious but comforting guitar solo playing. 

“Now, you take care of Avery,” Jarvis continues. “And he’ll take care of you. I’ll see you soon, Mister Parker. Have a good night.”

Peter knows a dismissal when he hears one, so he doesn’t bother replying. The message is received loud and clear, so he just pulls open the car door and slips out, scrunching up his face when rainwater drips into it. He finds himself wishing, not for the first time, that he had an umbrella. 

Jarvis pulls away before he can say anything, so Peter just sighs and breathes out raindrops and starts up the stairs to their apartment, because the elevator is broken again.

* * *

 

“Jesus,” May says when he drips all over the rug in the living room. “You should get an umbrella. How’d it go, then?”

“I know. And it went okay,” Peter says.

May widens her eyes. “Well, don’t spare any details on my account. C’mon. Tell me everything.”

“There’s not much to tell,” Peter says, but he sits next to her on the couch anyway and they both try to ignore the wetness seeping into the cushions.

“You just met your boyfriend’s parents for the first time, there must be loads to tell,” May says, nudging his shoulder with hers. “Seriously? No juicey gossip, no dramatic family temper tantrums? You’re letting me down, Parker.”

Peter chuckles. “Well, his brother is cool. I didn’t really see him much, though. And the driver is nice, I guess.”

“There we go, they have a driver?”

“Mm. His wife does the cooking and stuff. They’re both really nice. Avery said they liked me,” Peter says.

“What about his actual parents?” May asks.

Peter shrugs, “Howard didn’t really… say much. He’s kind of an asshole, I think, but their mom seems alright. She didn’t say a lot either, though. We had to eat dinner in silence.”

“No way,” May says. “In silence? They didn’t grill you about your intentions, or your dating history, or whether you’re a virgin or not?”

Peter makes a face. “Ew. And no, they didn’t. Is that what you’re supposed to do when you meet the parents?”

May stares at the coffee table. “It’s what Ben’s parents did when I met them for the first time.”

Peter just makes a quiet ‘oh’. They don’t talk about Ben often, but when they do it usually ends with one or other of them in tears.

May huffs out a breath of a laugh. “Anyway. You have the dance tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah. Avery’s supposed to be coming here to pick me up, so you can meet him and Jarvis, if you want, but he’ll probably change his plans last minute,” Peter says. “Although if he does do that, we’ll probably carpool with Ned and MJ and Liz.”

“And Liz is?”

“MJ’s sort of but not really girlfriend,” Peter says. “They’re stuck in the mutual love phase, where neither of them can own up to it.”

May giggles, “I never pegged MJ for a useless romantic.”

“She cried watching The Titanic,” Peter says.

“Who didn’t?” May says, all sorts of over exaggerated. In just spurs her on to list the romance films that made her cry the hardest, and Peter listens with some odd sense of detachment because romance films are not and never will be his prefered genre.

* * *

 

Friday wakes up a lot brighter and less rain-y than Thursday, which Peter is ultimately very grateful for.

He has to dodge stepping on about seventy thousand worms on the way to school, but he’s wearing a matching pair of Converse today, and his jeans are only a little bit damp from yesterday, so things are already better.

MJ’s book looks one hundred percent less rained on, and Ned’s yellow sweater is as bright as it always is once he arrives at school, both of which are things that makes him smile a bit wider than they probably should.

“Is Avery here yet?” Peter asks as soon as he’s close enough to hear them.

MJ shakes her head. “Not that I know of. Have you seen Liz at all?”

“She was coming out of the chem labs on my way past,” Peter says. “Why?”

MJ says, “no reason,” and, “catch you later,” and then she’s gone and Ned’s looking a little bit like a hurricane just blew past him.

“They’re probably going to make out in the bathrooms,” Peter says matter of factly.

Ned bursts out laughing and then the bell rings, so Peter picks up his backpack and heads off to the computer lab, determined not to fall asleep in the middle of class.

* * *

 

Peter isn’t surprised to see MJ wearing Liz’s lipstick when they finally meet back up at lunch. Ned stares at her for about five seconds before giggling and MJ glares at them both.

“If either of you say a word, I’ll obliterate you,” she says.

Ned snorts. “How was biology?”

“I didn’t realise we were doing anatomy so early in the year,” Peter adds.

MJ gives Peter her ‘you’re dead where you stand’ glare. “You can both go die in the deepest fucking hole I can find, I swear to God.”

Peter just laughs, hard enough to forget that he hasn’t seen Avery all day. If he didn’t know better he’d think he was avoiding him, but Peter knows better. He thinks he knows better.

* * *

 

It ends up that he doesn’t actually see or hear anything from Avery until well after school’s ended, and he’s standing squished between two people (one of whom went overboard on the perfume, which is making Peter’s nose itch) on the subway on his way back to the apartment. His phone pings with the owl hoot Avery had assigned to his contact, and Peter digs his phone out almost instantly. He feels his face turn up in a smile and tries not to think about his almost Pavlovian response.

**From Avery:** _ how ready are you? _

Peter taps out a reply almost instantly.

**From Peter:** __ready for what?  
**From Avery:** __haha  
**From Avery:** __i meant like do u want to get dinner or something b4 the dance  
**From Avery:** __tony gave me his card and said to go fucking wild  
**From Peter:** __i can be ready in twenty  
**From Avery:** _awesome ill pick u up then  
_**From Avery:** __and wear ur suit ill take u someplace fancy

Avery doesn’t reply after that and Peter’s service cuts out anyway, so he pockets his phone and daydreams about Avery’s smile for the rest of the journey.

* * *

 

Avery turns up on his doorstep with a lopsided grin stretching from ear to ear. His hair (which is usually a bird nest enough to rival Peter’s) seems relatively calm and tamed, which is mildly surprising.

Peter’s own hair could only dream of staying flat for that long.

“Good evening, my fair lady,” Avery declares. “Did you miss me today?”

Peter giggles. “Not at all. Did you step on any worms today?”

“My worm count is a big fat zero. You ready?” He offers his arm to Peter like they’re in some fantasy medieval TV show, and Peter takes it with a bashful grin.

“Where’ve you been all day?” he asks on their way down. “Anyone would think you’re avoiding me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, honeybunches,” Avery says. “I had, um, a thing with my dad. Sorry I didn’t mention it.”

Peter frowns in his direction. “It’s cool. You okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Avery asks, “I’ve got the hottest guy I know and I’m taking him to prom. Things couldn’t be better.”

Peter doesn’t really know what to say to that because Avery sounds kind of clipped and snappy. He settles for weaving their fingers together and squeezing.

* * *

 

Avery stuffs him full of fancy Actual Sushi (not the shitty gas station stuff) for dinner, and Peter enjoys watching Avery’s face scrunch up with each bite more than he enjoys the actual meal. 

“What’re you looking at?”

“Just you,” Peter says, his voice soft and quiet under the other quiet of the restaurant. The lights make Avery look like some kind of ethereal being, almost giving him a halo. Peter’s known for a while that Avery is actually too good for him, but seeing him look like an angel in some sushi place that Peter can’t pronounce the name of kind of… cements it.

“Just me what?” Avery asks. “Stop looking at me.”

Peter grins. “Why? I like looking at you.”

Avery grimaces, “Yeah, yeah. The least you could do is stop looking at my like I’m some kind of god.”

“Who says you’re not a god,” Peter murmurs.

“I say,” Avery says, “because I think I’d know if I was a god. Do you have the time?”

“Six forty three,” Peter says. “And are you sure you’d know if you were a god? You’re like, the most oblivious person I know.”

“I take offense to that,” Avery informs him.

“Are you going to deny it?” Peter asks. Avery’s expression scrunches and Peter grins. “Thought not. Do you think we should go soon?”

“Probably. Are you finished?” 

Peter nods, so Avery pays quickly (Peter decides one of the benefits of fancy rich people restaurants is not having to wait hours for the bill), and they disappear onto the street again. Avery takes his hand and swings it between them. Peter grins and they trace the familiar path to the school together.

* * *

 

They arrive kind of late. Peter knows enough about school dances to know when he’s not on time. 

Avery doesn’t seem to care though, pulling him through the crowds by his fingers until he bumps into Ned and MJ and Liz (all of whom look like actual models, despite the fact that Ned is just wearing a Star Wars shirt under a black blazer). “Evening, one and all,” Avery announces.

Peter grins at them. His eyes hone in on MJ and Liz’s conjoined hands and he winks. “Have you danced yet?”

MJ glares at him. “Look at what the cat dragged in, then. We were waiting on you two to dance.”

“Sorry we’re late then,” Avery says. “We were busy eating the faces off of each other in the bathrooms.”

“No, we were not!” Peter exclaims, feeling his cheeks heat up a lot more than he gave them permission to. Avery makes him do that a lot, really, which is more than annoying.

Ned snorts. “Sure, Peter.”

Peter buries his face in Avery’s shoulder. “Why does no one ever believe me.”

“Because you do stuff like that,” Liz says. “Does anyone want a drink?”

“I’ll come with,” MJ says quickly. “Any requests?”

“Water,” Peter says, not lifting his head from Avery’s neck.

“Water too,” Avery says, giggling. Peter feels warm breath ghost down the back of his neck.

“Gotcha,” MJ says and then she and Liz disappear. 

Ned says, “I’m going to say hi to some of the Decathlon people,” and he disappears too, so Peter moves round to stand in front of Avery and curl his arms around him.

Avery lifts his hands to balance on Peter’s forearms. “You okay?”

“Never better,” Peter says, lifting his head to push a kiss onto Avery’s cheek. “Do you wanna dance?”

Avery breathes out a laugh. “Why not?”

“I take no responsibility if you leave with broken toes,” Peter says as Avery leads him more into the center of the hall. 

“That implies you’re expecting me to leave with broken toes,” Avery says, “and I’m not sure how I feel about that.” He stops and turns till he’s facing Peter, and rests his hands on Peter’s shoulders.

The music isn’t quiet, but it feels like Peter can barely hear it anyway. His heartbeat is kind of rushing in his ears. 

Avery smiles at him. “Stop over thinking it. We’re just dancing.”

“Just dancing,” Peter repeats. “I know. I just don’t know how to dance, and you’ve probably trained professionally in a ballroom, or something.”

“I can’t remember the last time I danced,” Avery says. “Besides, I have two left feet, so if either of us escape this with our toes still whole, I’ll be very surprised.”

“We could just stand still and… sway,” Peter suggests.

“This isn’t a very sway-y song,” Avery says.

“So?”

Avery huffs out a breathy smile. “We’ll make our own rules, then.”

Peter grins at him, curling his fingers into Avery’s waist. “That’s kind of what we always do, isn’t it?”

Peter doesn’t think that slow dancing to a hiphop song is a relatively good idea, but they do it anyway. And it’s okay. Avery’s hands burn warm prints into his shoulders in the best way, and he spots MJ and Liz kissing by the punch bowl, and Ned looking kind of lost talking to a girl by the door, and he feels… happy.

Yeah. He feels happy.

 

**Author's Note:**

> hope u enjoyed this! let me know what u think
> 
> ill see you next time! loving you, ell


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